29. Konstantin
29
KONSTANTIN
She’s crying.
I clench my hands until my forearms cramp.
She’s fucking crying.
I’m starting to turn to follow Emily, my instinct guiding my body, when Alla claps her hands together like a thunderbolt and calls out to me in Russian.
“Don’t you fucking dare!” she bellows. “Come here at once!”
Knotting up my shoulders, I face my grandmother with extreme patience. Every cell in my body is shaking and I fight the urge to chase Emily down and comfort her. Why is she crying? I’m not the type to be softened by someone else’s emotions.
But it’s happening now.
“What did you say to her?” I ask in Russian.
“Nothing she didn’t already know.”
“She looked upset.”
“She should be.” Alla glares at me. “Don’t treat me like I’m a fool, Kostya. You’ve already insulted me enough with your little stunt in Italy.” She sighs, shaking her head so slowly her braid doesn’t shift. “What the fuck were you thinking?”
“I was thinking about saving my sister,” I say curtly. “Who’s still just a few weeks over eighteen, in case you’ve forgotten!”
Alla’s slap is whip-quick. My cheek burns but I don’t break my gaze. Her eyes flare with rage as she looks at me.
“You were sixteen when you sat in the chair that belonged to my son, you impudent little rat,” she says.
I remain silent, and resist the urge to rub my face where the sting lingers.
“Do you think you’re the only one who cares about Aliska?” she asks, using my sister’s diminutive because it’s the only other way she knows how to hurt me. “You think you’re the only one who still mourns my Yuri? Never forget that I gave birth to him, that I felt him kick in my womb for months, nursed him at my breast, and held his little hands until he became the man that he was.” She stabs at me with her finger. “The man that your actions killed.”
“Yet you would allow Aliska to be wedded to the very family that ordered father’s death?"
“I would.” She nods. “If that’s what it takes to end this pointless war.”
“Did you know they tried to kill me?” I ask her. “That’s what my so-called little stunt in Italy was. Do you imagine that the future of the Bratva would’ve been secure if I died that day and allowed it to pass to Alisa?”
“And this is your solution?” She casts a furious glance towards Emily before returning her anger towards me. “To marry an American whore?”
My fists shake by my hips. “Don’t fucking call her that.” I warn her.
“What else would you have me call her?”
“She is to be my wife!” I roar.
“If you wanted to be married so badly.” Alla jabs another finger at my chest. “I could’ve arranged for a union with the Bratva royalties of Moscow, or Kiev. Instead, you went behind my back and brought a whore into the house where I birthed your father.”
“I am the pakhan, grandmother,” I remind her, seething. “Not you.”
“A pakhan in name.” She dismisses me with a flick of her hand. “Otherwise, why try and fool me with this farce of a wedding?”
“I’m about to satisfy the demands you yourself have set out for me.”
“Is the future of the bratva secure?” She cocks her head to the side. “Is the whore pregnant? Can I expect an heir from you by spring?”
Will they expect everything else that comes with a wedding? Emily’s questions from the day she arrived at the castle suddenly echoes in my head. A happily ever after?
Babies?
And then I remember what she said to me when I pulled her out of the water.
I am not having your babies.
Fuck.
“Have you even fucked her?”
Heat rises along my neck. “What I do with my fiancée is none of your concern.”
“Your response has told me everything I need to know, Kostya.” Alla scoffs. “You tell me that you’re the pakhan, but a pakhan must be ruthless. A pakhan must do everything in his power to secure a future for his bratva. If you want to marry this American whore so badly, I can’t stop you.”
“I’m warning you, grandmother …”
“But if you want me to hand the signet ring—and by extension the bratva—to you,” Alla ignores me as she continues talking. “Then you’ll show me that our future is secure. And you’ll do that by putting a baby in that whore’s belly, whether she wants one or not.”
My nails dig into my palm. I can’t clench my fists any tighter. I know what Alla is demanding from me. What she’s ordering me to do.
“I will not rape her to satisfy your conditions!”
“Then you will never get the signet ring from me, Konstantin Yurevich!” Alla flicks her wrist. “If you want to take total control of the bratva, then you will do what the bratva demands. Put a baby in that whore’s belly, and I’ll give the ring to you. Do you understand?”
I want to yell at her. I want to tell her that what she’s asking me to do is unconscionable.
It’s wrong.
But I know that the demands of the bratva is rigid and unyielding. No man, neither boevik nor a pakhan , can reject its demands.
The bratva must always come first, no matter what.
“I understand, Alla Antonovna, but I don’t agree with it.”
“You don’t need to agree with it,” she hisses. “You only need to do what’s necessary when the time comes. Once you’ve performed your duty, then and only then will I hand you full control of the bratva.”
She lifts her chin and whistles sharply. The pair of guards who accompanied her now rush to flank her as she walks to the ferry.
Once she’s far enough, I glance towards the stable. Emily is pressing herself against Hamlet where he leans out of the stall. Next to the huge horse, she seems smaller than ever. Her face rests on his muzzle, her hands petting his neck.
Slowly, I make my way over to her. “Emily …”
She jumps like I touched her to a live wire. Walking my way, her attention moves from me to just past my shoulder. I know she’s eyeing Alla.
She was crying.
I take her hand in mine, shielding her from Alla with my body so that no-one behind me can see her. Emily’s fingers squeeze tightly against mine.
“Your grandmother,” she whispers. “She doesn’t believe that this is real.”
No, it’s so much worse …
But I can’t bring myself to tell her.
I frown and lay my other hand over top of hers. “She’s just overprotective of the family.”
“She hates me.”
“She hates everyone,” I admit. “But she’ll allow this marriage to go forth.”
Emily blinks rapidly at me. “She will?”
Am I imagining things or does Emily look … relieved? Will she still look this way when I tell her what needs to happen next?
And if I do … will she hate me for it? Will I lose her forever?
I wrap my fingers more firmly around hers, pull her close, and press my lips to hers.
It’s the only way I can stop those endless questions in my mind.